"Honest now!"

"Waal, I'll tell ye--a little peace and comfort for me and Josie in our
old age, and a little something to make the children remember us when
we're gone. Isn't that worth working for?"

He said this with downright seriousness. I did not press him further,
but if I had tried I could probably have got the even deeper admission
of that faith that lies, like bed rock, in the thought of most men--that
honesty and decency here will not be without its reward there, however
they may define the "there." Some "prophet's paradise to come!"

"I knew it!" I said. "Horace, you're a dreamer, too. You are dreaming of
peace and comfort in your old age, a little quiet house in town where
you won't have to labour as hard as you do now, where you won't be
worried by crops and weather, and where Mrs. Horace will be able to rest
after so many years of care and work and sorrow--a kind of earthly
heaven! And you are dreaming of leaving a bit to your children and
grandchildren, and dreaming of the gratitude they will express. All
dreams, Horace!"

"Oh, waal---"

"The fact is, you are working for a dream, and living on dreams--isn't
that true?"

"Waal, now, if you mean it that way----"

"I see I haven't got you beaten yet, Horace!"